


That Strain Again!

by themunak



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-17
Updated: 2012-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-02 01:46:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themunak/pseuds/themunak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malik made noise, but no words, just everything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Strain Again!

**Author's Note:**

> For the [kinkmeme](http://asscreedkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1611.html?thread=8015691#cmt8015691).
> 
> Originally posted at Tumblr.

Malik was a smart bastard with an even smarter mouth, this much was obvious. He pulled no verbal punches-- if life were a Mortal Kombat game, every biting line he would make would be classified as a Fatality, or near enough it. The guy had the tendency to go for the balls if he couldn't get to the jugular, leave you writhing and cringing in humiliation and turning into a whimpering little ball.

So it would make sense that he just wouldn't shut up in bed, right? Right? Of course that mouth would just keep going despite the body it's attached to is indulging in sex.

Obviously.

And there lay the problem-- Desmond didn't _want_ shove a gag in his mouth and that those _quiet_ moments of bliss. Malik made noise, but no words, just everything else. Malik made noise, yes, but the noises he made always made Desmond's dick go from zero to sixty in a fraction of a second and isn't that a legitimate reason to start learning Malik on the outside as well?

"Novice, if you do not start moving your hand immediately, I am going to sho-- _ooohh._ " A throaty groan for a firm massage of the heel of Desmond's palm against the flesh just underneath Malik's navel.

Hey, if the guy wanted him to move, then he'd move.

Teeth replaced his hand, nipping lightly before Desmond gave that same spot a wet, sloppy kiss, drawing out a croon from Malik's mouth and a hand in his own hair. Desmond smirked, because despite that annoyed frown marring Malik's face, he's got more than enough incentive to continue.

Fingers tap-danced across hipbones, and a chorus of annoyed, impatient grunts started up.

A tongue licked a stripe over inner thighs again and again, and a whine reached his ears.

Palms massaged collarbones, and a purr rumbled in the throat between his hands.

Lips trailed along at the underside of an arm, and a series of pants began to heave from the chest beside his head.

Towards the end, lube-slick fingers rubbed over that tight little hole, and an impatient keen suddenly ripped through the air. As one of those fingers slipped in, ever so slowly, a groan sounded, and ended in a high note. When that finger crooked and turned to stimulate that little bump every man had the fortune of owning, a loud " _fuck_ " was followed by several other, muttered curses in languages he didn't even understand.

Desmond gave, and Malik, holy hell did Malik receive, with his blown eyes, limp body and strained mouth that just kept on squeezing out the sounds that made Desmond's dick stay at full mast despite not getting any of the attention. God, if he'd known about this before, he wouldn't have minded wasting more time worshipping this man with the dark skin and gorgeous eyes and killer tongue.

Malik snarled and growled as he fucked himself on just the one finger despite Desmond being sure that it wasn't enough to actually get him over the edge, and yet--

Holy fuck, and yet Malik looked like he was having the time of his life.


End file.
